What is really in a name?
Was Oscar Wilde correct in his assumption when he said that the only thing worse than being talked about was not being talked about at all? Lily decided to tag along with her mother on this unspoken holiday called “Black Friday.” While retail stores everywhere may be focusing on getting out of the red, the only crimson color on consumers’ minds is packaged in bows, décor, and if you’re extremely lucky, shiny, cut rubies wrapped tightly underneath a large tree. The official precursor to the next four weeks of indulgence used to begin with 4 a.m. wait lines of people hoping to gain entry into a Toys-R-Us before the masses and scoop up this season’s elusive must-have purchase that will, undoubtedly, make or break a child’s Christmas morning. Now, with so many stores which were once synonymous with adorable mascots or catchy jingles all on the brink of bankruptcy, most parents will simply press a purchase button on their new Apple and make friends with UPS.
However, there are still a few old fashioned stand-by’s which are simply too memorable to let go of, such as baking sugar cookies, sending out yearly family letters (albeit FB, which no one actually reads), and purchasing more outdoor lights and decorations. Who can resist the instant rush of excitement after picking up the latest must have dining room centerpiece or updating the front door with a wreath recommended by GOOP? Somehow, the unseen mood and magic drifting in the air helps elevate everyone’s expectations that this next December 25th will, in fact, be the most memorable of them all.
Lily and her mother soon find themselves immersed in aisles and aisle of pretend Winter Wonderlands as they politely rub shoulders with countless strangers in hopes that the perfect purchase will jump out at them, metaphorically, of course. The pre-teen girl lags a bit behind and soon has lost eye contact of her much more ambitious shopping companion, finding herself temporarily glued to one square foot tile. Frustrated and a tad bit anxious, the lanky blond tries to discreetly remove her North Face parka, feeling that all of this body heat may make her faint on the spot. “Sorry. I’m so…” With one arm aimed strategically in front of her, she had almost escaped the crowded epicenter of Swarovski Santa’s before a quick bump sent her flying straight back into numerous little balls made up of glass. Despite not a single shopper coming to her assistance, Lily did manage to grab the object she had hit just before it made contact with the floor. Now, sans Mom and sitting firmly on her bum, ironically in her Mother Denim, she finally takes a peek at the object. It’s a snow globe. “Wow. I’ve always heard about these things.”
Before Lily begins examining the crystal ball she’s currently cradling in her hands, she glances back at the former resting site where it had just been stationed and sees how each clear sphere depicts some well-known aspect of the greatest time of the year. There are old fashioned red trucks, deer, evergreens, and even Mickey Mouse donning a Santa hat, but the common denominator seemed to be the snow. With one, simple shake of the wrist, miniscule snowflakes immediately began falling giving each mini movie set a white winter.
Eventually, Lily began examining “her” globe and saw it was a quintessential Christmas village, should an entire town only consist of two, tiny rows of houses which are connected by a mini cul-de-sac. It was so pristine, but, yet, simple. The neighborhood even seemed to have invested in a landscaper because the evergreens in the front yards were right on point. Just as the girl was about to do the inevitable and shake the enticing sphere, an angry woman’s voice managed to grab everyone’s attention. “I want to talk to your Manager! Now!” Lily recognized this voice. Karen. You can’t really classify Karen as a “friend” of anyone’s, but everyone knew her, that’s for sure. “I wonder where my mom is,” Lilly asked herself. In the meantime, she began shaking the object in her hand and became transfixed by every single snowflake falling from its sky.
“I swear I only want to hear about you, to know what you’ve been doing. It’s a hundred years since we’ve met-it-may be another hundred before we meet again.” Edith Wharton
Imagine a condensed Peyton Place, where there might be a couple of secluded streets in which the initial quaint charm eventually segues into a complicated web of scandals, shady business deals, extramarital affairs, and, even once in a while, a murder. Despite the premise being loosely based on Metalious’s 1956 novel, all of us live in some semblance of a daytime serial. After reading a blurb about the fallout regarding the familial politics of a J.R. and a Bobby, or the intimate details in which Page Six describes the latest cat fight resulting in the priceless Lauren B ring lost forever in the cloudy fish pond after Alexis and Crystal began pulling hair, we secretly feel better about our mundane lives. As much as some things in life constantly change, others never do. As much as we want the outside world to believe we are innately a “Susan,” it just makes life much more entertaining to play the part of a “Gabriella.”
On this particular winter morning, our former “Becky” is awaking to a cold, hard reality check as she slowly recalls the events from the night before. It is fair to say that Becky has a slight drinking problem being that she tries to remind herself each morning to edit all of her drunken posts from the night before. Despite her “degrees”, the misspelled words and numerous grammar missteps don’t bode well for her identity. Becky is in the midst of middle age and, despite ever being considered a true stunner, has still always fallen on the “cute” spectrum. It has never been an option for her to have been considered a true knockout standing at a mere five feet two; the latest chest enhancement has added a few pounds. Nonetheless, she keeps on trying.
After discovering a few hidden receipts of dear Hubby, Becky decided to embark on a couple of major spending sprees of her own before eventually getting busted over the latest Hermes belt. (She didn’t get the memo to switch to Gucci.) In a fit of rage, the muscular little spitfire decided to DM the neighbor’s recent high school stud. This high school hero had a couple of memorable plays in the end zone but decided life was a bit easier living in a parent’s basement rather than actually forking over money for rent and utilities. This arrangement also enabled him to impress many females due to a few extra 0’s at the end of his paycheck becoming available for Ford’s King Ranch. Despite the two never having had any real conversations to speak of, a couple of extra vodka tonics led to a few extra pics.
One thing led to another, and it wasn’t long before the word on the streets had determined that Becky was on the prowl. While none of this latest talk harmed Cain, it most assuredly did not allow Becky, despite her numerous God fearing quotes, to continue on her current path of sharing her favorite political party’s endeavors. Her recent actions did not promote their stance on representation of family values. (Soon after, Becky did acquire fresher hair and announced that she had been forgiven. She is currently establishing her very own exploratory committee in hopes of a future run for PTO President.)
Cain laughed the entire incident off as he already had his hands, among other things, full with plenty of female attention. The idea of one more MILF fawning over him was forgotten by the next Saturday night. What Cain couldn’t seem to shake off was his sister Abby. Abby never seemed to disappoint and truly was the ‘apple’s eye” of their parents. After graduating from Notre Dame with a 4.0, she embarked on a year long stint with the Peace Corps before having to return to the States due to the “bubble.” So fitting, Abby decided to become a nurse in order to make a lasting impact on the world. If that wasn’t enough perfection, she chose to wear a purity ring reminding anyone who dare ask that she was saving herself for her wedding night. Unfortunately, the topic arose one too many times in passing at 6 a.m. when Cain’s latest hookup passed Abby in the hallway on the way to the restroom. Always maintaining her non judgmental attitude, Abby simply smiled. There were times that Cain truly did plot his sister’s demise, down to the most minute detail, before telling himself that he would be a target for the lifers behind those iron bars. His best bet was to hold his breath until she finally walked down the aisle. He had already memorized the toast. Besides, what better place to meet a new hook-up than in a roomful of everlasting love.
It must be said that Cain is no stranger when it comes to indiscretions with participants of carpooling. The summer before last, Cain overheard a knock on the front door. The strapping former athlete who has never been a fan of clothing soon met Sharon. A neighbor from two houses down, the breathless, Lululemon clad Sharon finally spoke. “I think I’ve accidentally locked myself out.” As she finished her sentence, the forty- something mom of three began looking down at her white, leather OCA’s as her cheeks began to feel warm. Before you could even pronounce “lothario,” the two were performing soccer moves that none of Sharon’s kids had ever seen.
Sharon managed to readjust her turquoise headband securely on her pony- tailed head and the two culprits in crime decided it best to not divulge a single word about their two minute interlude. Well, a couple of Dr. Phil episodes later, Sharon proceeded to purge her soul and confess all to her dapper husband, Don. Of course, Don, no stranger to a few dalliances himself, internally understood the young man’s need to practice his craft. What he didn’t approve of was obsessing over whether the young stallion might have performed better than him. The last marital interlude exactly six weeks ago concluded with Don noticing his betrothed was watching the latest Bravo airing out of the corner of one eye. Even Mr. Juan’s ego had taken a hit that evening. After a few tense cell phone conversations, the two men mutually agreed upon a solution beneficial for them both. Don Juan had always wanted to invest in an outside business, and this newly implemented “bubble” over their heads had only increased his entrepreneurial spirit. Before too long, he would break ground for a no-contact, drive-thru strip club, invitation only, of course. Who better to manage this enterprise than the town’s own “Magic Mike?” It will work out splendidly for a while.
Cain does have a legitimate GF, of course he does. The poor, downtrodden Regina. After years of tormenting her classmates, she graduated with a Prom Queen crown on her head and an invite to rush DZ at the local Junior College. Still not sure about what she wanted to pursue, she enrolled in nine hours while working at the town’s best tanning salon, which assures patrons they will never turn an unnatural shade of orange. Regina has tried changing her image several times during the past few months believing her outward appearance will travel inwards and help her find inner peace. After watching a documentary about the Master himself, Yves Saint Laurent, her new motto became, “Fashions fade, style is eternal.” However, he also said, “The most beautiful clothes that can dress a woman are the arms of the man she loves.” Regina was secretly praying for the eventual day the very busy Cain would get down on one knee. If she could release her inner Mean Girl, surely Cain could soon sew all of his wild oats. In the meantime, she would continue to research every available cut and clarity in his price range on Pinterest.
As the calendar months began inching closer and closer toward the Yuletide season, the restless citizens were gearing up for one heck of a December to Remember. Living life in a bubble has forced many to work from the confines of home, meaning the infamous office parties were all but extinct. With funds a little tighter this year for most of the townsfolk, the hostess honors soon became bestowed on Mrs. Kravitz, everyone’s favorite full-time busybody. The general consensus was that after a few cranberry martinis, she could be forgiven for pulling out the binoculars on the Jones’ last year. The guest list included everyone because in a town this size, any omissions would surely not go unnoticed. The theme was a bit out of the ordinary being that beneath the candy caned cocktails it read, “Holiday Ho-Ho-Hoedown.” It soon appeared that not all of the townsfolk would have the same interpretation.
Guests continued to file in, most carrying an obligatory bottle of wine or overpriced scented candles. There would be a tipsy moment here, a stolen wink there, but all pretty standard considering. Maybe, it was the skin tight bondage dress which reeked of Bebe, (are they still a thing?), but when Kyle showed up with his date, things took a decided turn for the worse. Forget the shining star perched snuggly on top of Gladys’s tree, there now appeared to be a blinding strobe light directly overhead the newly arrived couple. Kyle had been introduced to the mysterious Lolita precisely five hours earlier after knocking back a couple of after work shots with Cain, at the plexi-glassed Adult Only venue. Sure enough, she was just clocking out.
Unfortunately, this is a small town, and all, and news travels fast. It appeared as if the party planner didn’t realize just how well some of her revelers really did know one another before she felt obligated to make the introductions. What really is the true definition of six degrees of separation? Perhaps it can be summed up by saying that Don didn’t realize his side piece was earning her keep elsewhere, and Becky didn’t realize that her husband’s new contact wasn’t Felix, but instead, Felicia. The mayhem that quickly ensued was a block party in which neighbors did not treat one another as “ourselves” and the resident party girl was soon shown the double doors. “Bye, Felicia.” There was now one less Ho from the invite.
The jury is still out, literally, on the case which resulted from an evening of martinis and mistletoe. Poor Kyle never showed back up and some are presuming foul play must be involved. Is it an embarrassed lover, a drunken brawl, an angry socialite who will never be allowed back into polite society? One may never know, but there are plenty of rumors floating around.
“And I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.” Jordan Baker in The Great Gatsby
Lily could soon overhear a polite voice assuring Karen that she can have a full refund on the entire already eaten bag of holiday cookies and she will be able to get 25% off on her next visit. “Well, at least someone around here has half a brain,” she huffs.
“There you are! How adorable! I haven’t seen one of those since I was a kid.” Lily’s mother takes the object into her hands briefly imagining her own scenario before asking, “Do you want to get it?” The girl just smiles as she readjusts her puffy parka and shakes her head. If there is one lasting effect from her tinsel filled daydreaming it is that she wants to embark on a much more peaceful December to remember.
“Ah! There is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort.” Jane Austen